Miss Billy by Eleanor Hodgman Porter (the false prince series .TXT) đ
The lawyer stirred restlessly and pondered.
"But, surely, my dear, isn't there some relative, somewhere?" hedemanded. "How about your mother's people?"
Billy shook her head. Her eyes filled again with tears.
There was only Aunt Ella, ever, that I knew anything about. Sheand mother were the only children there were, and mother died whenI was a year old, you know."
"But your father's people?"
"It's even worse there. He was an only child and an orphan whenmother married him. He died when I was but six months old. Afterthat there was only mother and Aunt Ella, then Aunt Ella alone; andnow--no one."
"And you know nothing of your father's people?"
"Nothing; that is--almost nothing."
"Then there is some one?"
Billy smiled. A deeper pink showed in her cheeks.
"Why, there's one--a man but he isn't really father's people,anyway. But I--I have been tempted to write to him."
"Who is he?"
"The one I'm named
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âGood! And remember I said ânow,â pleaseâthat I wanted you to come right away, to-day. Of course Kate canât stay. Just get in half a dozen women to help you pack, and come.â
âHalf a dozen women in that little room, Williamâimpossible!â
âWell, I only meant to get enough so you could come right off this morning.â
âBut I donât need them, William. There are only my clothes and books, and such things. You know it is a FURNISHED room.â
âAll right, all right, Aunt Hannah. I wanted to make sure you hurried, thatâs all. You see, I donât want Billy to suspect just how much sheâs upsetting us. Iâve asked Kate to take her over to her house for the day, while Bertram is moving downstairs, and while weâre getting you settled. IâI think youâll like it there, Aunt Hannah,â added William, anxiously. âOf course Billyâs got Spunk, butââ he hesitated, and smiled a little.
âGot what?â faltered the other.
âSpunk. Oh, I donât mean THAT kind,â laughed William, in answer to the dismayed expression on his auntâs face. âSpunk is a cat.â
âA cat!âbut such a name, William! IâI think weâll change that.â
âEh? Oh, you do,â murmured William, with a curious smile. âVery well; be that as it may. Anyhow, youâre coming, and we shall want you all settled by dinner time,â he finished, as he picked up his hat to go.
With Kate, Billy spent the long day very contentedly in Kateâs beautiful Commonwealth Avenue home. The two boys, Paul, twelve years old, and Egbert, eight, were a little shy, it is true, and not really of much use as companions; but there was a little Kate, four years old, who proved to be wonderfully entertaining.
Billy was not much used to children, and she found this four-year- old atom of humanity to be a great source of interest and amusement. She even told Mrs. Hartwell at parting that little Kate was almost as nice as Spunkâwhich remark, oddly enough, did not appear to please Mrs. Hartwell to the extent that Billy thought that it would.
At the Beacon Street house Billy was presented at once to Mrs. Stetson.
âAnd you are to call me âAunt Hannah,â my dear,â said the little woman, graciously, âjust as the boys do.â
âThank you,â dimpled Billy, âand you donât know, Aunt Hannah, how good it seems to me to come into so many relatives, all at once!â
Upon going upstairs Billy found her room somewhat changed. It was far less warlike, and the case of spiders had been taken away.
âAnd this will be your stratum, you know,â announced Bertram from the stairway, âyours and Aunt Hannahâs. Youâre to have this whole floor. Will and Cyril are above, and Iâm downstairs.â
âYou are? Why, I thought youâwereâhere.â Billyâs face was puzzled.
âHere? Oh, well, I did haveâsome things here,â he retorted airily; âbut I took them all away to-day. You see, my stratum is downstairs, and it doesnât do to mix the layers. By the way, you havenât been upstairs yet; have you? Come on, and Iâll show youâ and you, too, Aunt Hannah.â
Billy clapped her hands; but Aunt Hannah shook her head.
âIâll leave that for younger feet than mine,â she said; adding whimsically: âItâs best sometimes that one doesnât try to step too far off oneâs own level, you know.â
âAll right,â laughed the man. âCome on, Miss Billy.â
On the door at the head of the stairs he tapped twice, lightly.
âWell, Pete,â called Cyrilâs voice, none too cordially.
âPete, indeed!â scoffed Bertram. âYouâve got company, young man. Open the door. Miss Billy is viewing the Strata.â
The bare floor echoed to a quick tread, then the door opened and Cyril faced them with a forced smile on his lips.
âCome inâthough I fear there will be littleâto see,â he said.
Bertram assumed a pompous attitude.
âLadies and gentlemen; you behold here the lion in his lair.â
âBe still, Bertram,â ordered Cyril.
âHe is a lion, really,â confided Bertram, in a lower voice; âbut as he prefers it, weâll just call him âthe Musical Man.ââ
âI should think I was some sort of music-box that turned with a crank,â bristled Cyril.
Bertram grinned.
âAâCRANK, did you say? Well, even I wouldnât have quite dared to say that, you know!â
With an impatient gesture Cyril turned on his heel. Bertram fell once more into his pompous attitude.
âBefore you is the Manâs workshop,â he orated. âAt your right you see his instruments of torâ I mean, his instruments: a piano, flute, etc. At your left is the desk with its pens, paper, erasers, ink and postage stamps. I mention these because there areâerâso few things to mention here. Beyond, through the open door, one may catch glimpses of still other rooms; but they hold even less than this one holds. Tradition doth assert, however, that in one is a couch-bed, and in another, two chairs.â
Billy listened silently. Her eyes were questioning. She was not quite sure how to take Bertramâs words; and the bare rooms and their stern-faced master filled her with a vague pity. But the pause that followed Bertramâs nonsense seemed to be waiting for her to fill it.
âOh, I should like to hear youâplay, Mr. Cyril,â she stammered. Then, gathering courage. âCAN you play âThe Maidenâs Prayerâ?â
Bertram gave a cough, a spasmodic cough that sent him, red-faced, out into the hall. From there he called:
âCanât stop for the animals to perform, Miss Billy. Itâs âmost dinner time, and weâve got lots to see yet.â
âAll right; butâsometime,â nodded Billy over her shoulder to Cyril as she turned away. âI just love that âMaidenâs Prayerâ!â
âNow this is Williamâs stratum,â announced Bertram at the foot of the stairs. âYou will perceive that there is no knocking here; Williamâs doors are always open.â
âBy all means! Come inâcome in,â called Williamâs cheery voice.
âOh, my, what a lot of things!â exclaimed Billy. âMyâmyâwhat a lot of things! How Spunk will like this room!â
Bertram chuckled; then he made a great display of drawing a long breath.
âIn the short time at our disposal,â he began loftily, âit will be impossible to point out each particular article and give its history from the beginning; but somewhere you will find four round white stones, whichââ
âErâyes, we know all about those white stones,â interrupted William, âand youâll please let me talk about my own things myself!â And he beamed benevolently on the wondering-eyed girl at Bertramâs side.
âBut there are so many!â breathed Billy.
âAll the more chance then,â smiled William, âthat somewhere among them youâll find something to interest you. Now these Chinese ceramics, and these bronzesâmaybe youâd like those,â he suggested. And with a resigned sigh and an exaggerated air of submission, Bertram stepped back and gave way to his brother.
âAnd there are these miniatures, and these Japanese porcelains. Or perhaps youâd like stamps, or theatre programs better,â William finished anxiously.
Billy did not reply. She was turning round and round, her eyes wide and amazed. Suddenly she pounced on a beautifully decorated teapot, and held it up in admiring hands.
âOh, what a pretty teapot! And what a cute little plate it sets in!â she cried.
The collector fairly bubbled over with joy.
âThatâs a Lowestoftâa real Lowestoft!â he crowed. âNot that hard-paste stuff from the Orient thatâs CALLED Lowestoft, but the real thingâEnglish, you know. And thatâs the tray that goes with it, too. Wonderfulâhow I got them both! You know they âmost always get separated. I paid a cool hundred for them, anyhow.â
âA hundred dollars for a teapot!â gasped Billy.
âYes; and hereâs a nice little piece of lustre-ware. Prettyâisnât it? And thereâs a fine bit of black basalt. Andââ
âErâWill,â interposed Bertram, meekly.
âOh, and hereâs a Castleford,â cried William, paying no attention to the interruption. âMarked, too; see? âD. D. & Co., Castleford.â You know there isnât much of that ware marked. This is a beauty, too, I think. You see this pitted surfaceâthey made that with tiny little points set into the inner side of the mold. The design stands out fine on this. Itâs one of the best I ever saw. And, ohââ
âErâWilliam,â interposed Bertram again, a little louder this time. âMay I just sayââ
âAnd did you notice this âOld Blueâ?â hurried on William, eagerly. âLid sets down in, you seeâthatâs older than the kind where it sets over the top. Now hereâs oneââ
âWilliam,â almost shouted Bertram, âDINNER IS READY! Pete has sounded the gong twice already!â
âEh? Oh, sure enoughâsure enough,â acknowledged William, with a regretful glance at his treasures. âWell, we must go, we must go.â
âBut I havenât seen your stratum at all,â demurred Billy to her guide, as they went down the stairway.
âThen thereâs something left for tomorrow,â promised Bertram; âbut you must remember, I havenât got any beautiful âOld Bluesâ and âblack basalts,â to say nothing of stamps and baggage tags. But Iâll make you some teaâsome real teaâand thatâs more than William has done, with all his hundred and one teapots!â
Spunk did not change his name; but that was perhaps the only thing that did not meet with some sort of change during the weeks that immediately followed Billyâs arrival. Given a house, five men, and an ironbound routine of life, and it is scarcely necessary to say that the advent of a somewhat fussy elderly woman, an impulsive young girl, and a very-much-alive small cat will make some difference. As to Spunkâs nameâit was not Mrs. Stetsonâs fault that even that was left undisturbed.
Mrs. Stetson early became acquainted with Spunk. She was introduced to him, indeed, on the night of her arrivalâthough fortunately not at table: William had seen to it that Spunk did not appear at dinner, though to accomplish this the man had been obliged to face the amazed and grieved indignation of the kittenâs mistress.
âBut I donât see how any one CAN object to a nice clean little cat at the table,â Billy had remonstrated tearfully.
âI know; butâerâthey do, sometimes,â William had stammered; âand this is one of the times. Aunt Hannah would never stand for itâ never!â
âOh, but she doesnât know Spunk,â Billy had observed then, hopefully. âYou just wait until she knows him.â
Mrs. Stetson began to âknowâ Spunk the next day. The immediate source of her knowledge was the discovery that Spunk had found her ball of black knitting yarn, and had delightedly captured it. Not that he was content to let it remain where it wasâindeed, no. He rolled it down the stairs, batted it through the hall to the drawing-room, and then proceeded to âchasseâ with it in and out among the legs of various chairs and tables, ending in one grand whirl that wound the yarn round and round his small body, and keeled him over half upon his back. There he blissfully went to sleep.
Billy found him after a gleeful following of the slender woollen trail. Mrs. Stetson was with herâbut she was not gleeful.
âOh, Aunt Hannah, Aunt Hannah,â gurgled Billy, âisnât he just too cute for anything?â
Aunt Hannah shook her head.
âI must confess I donât see it,â she declared. âMy dear, just look at that hopeless snarl!â
âOh, but it isnât hopeless at all,â laughed Billy. âItâs like one of those strings they unwind at parties with a present at the end of it. And Spunk is the present,â she added, when she had extricated the small gray cat. âAnd you shall hold him,â she finished, graciously entrusting the sleepy kitten to Mrs. Stetsonâs unwilling arms.
âBut, IâitâI canâtâBilly! I donât like that name,â blurted out the indignant little lady with as much warmth as she
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